Page 80 of Split

“Tell me, father, where in your vows was there a pardon for murder?” I demand, marching back toward him. “Of a wife, of a daughter…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.

“No?” I scoff. “Isn’t that why you came here tonight? To finish the job that Wesley couldn’t?”

“Who?” he questions, flinching back with a grimace. “The lawn boy you spread your legs for?”

I must’ve gotten my acting abilities from him, because my father’s putting on a convincing performance right now. IfI didn’t know him so well, I’d miss the subtle tick in his movements, the shift in his posture.

“Eliza, you’re clearly unwell,” he sighs, pushing up to his feet. “Perhaps you should come back home so I can get you the proper care you need.”

“Mywifeisn’t going anywhere,” Roman bites out, taking a threatening step toward my father. “This is her home now, and she isverywell cared for, isn’t she, brother?”

“I cared for her twice just this morning,” Knox snickers.

My father makes a scoffing sound in his throat, face screwing up in revulsion as he looks between the twins. Then he sets his sights on me again and starts in my direction. “Eliza…”

“Don’t,” I snap, holding up a hand to halt his advance. “Don’t come near me.”

His eyes go wide. “How can you treat your father this way?” he pouts, voice softening to feign injury.

“What kind of father would want to murder his own daughter?” I fire back angrily.

He shakes his head, evidently giving up on acting as his scowl returns. “This is absurd.”

“Your time is up, Victor,” Roman cuts in, stepping between us. “We know everything. Your wife, Anastasia Sorokin. Her father, Dimitri Sorokin. Abram, too.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “All tragic accidents.”

“Thatyouset into motion,” Roman growls.

A wraith of a smile crosses my father’s lips. “Prove it.”

“We already have, and now there’s an execution order on your head,” Knox informs him, still holding his post at the door. “Boss agreed to let us do the honors, wasn’t that generous of him?”

“We’re leaving,” my father huffs, calling out for his second as he turns for the door. “Vlad!”

The moment he utters his name, Knox is slicing Vlad’s throat, blood spraying from the gash in his neck like a sieve, splashing onto the black marble floors below him as he collapses.

My father pales, eyes bouncing between my men, the exits they’re blocking his path to, and his henchman’s slumped form bleeding out on the ground. I can practically see the wheels in his head turning as he frantically considers his next move, seemingly deciding when his eyes land on me and he lunges forward.

I’m ready for him.My fingertips graze the slit in my dress, slipping inside and curling around the hilt of the knife in my thigh holster. Our guests’ weapons were confiscated at the door tonight, but we’ve got ours. I whip out the blade, bringing it up between us and pointing the tip in his direction.

He immediately balks, holding up his hands in surrender. “Eliza,sweetheart, they’re manipulating you,” he rushes out, swallowing thickly. “None of this is true.”

“That’s rich, consideringyoumanipulated me my entire life,” I reply coldly, advancing toward him with the knife in hand. “You belittled me. Abused me. Never spared me an ounce of affection. Then sold me off with the hope I’d be slaughtered by my husband.”

He slowly backs away down the row of bookshelves, shaking his head. “None of that is true, I swear,” he insists, a sharp edge of desperation in his tone.

“You always were a better liar than a father,” I grumble wryly, stopping in front of the bookshelf that functions as the hidden door to the tunnels. “Tell you what,” I say as I reach over to pull on it, the hinges creaking as the door swings wide.“I’ll do you a kindness you never gave me. I’ll give you a five-minute head start.”

He blanches as he looks down the dark stone stairwell, breath catching in fear.

“Time starts now,” I wink.

My father sputters, looking around wildly in search for some way out of this situation. All he finds is Knox at the back door, inviting the dogs in to join in our little murder party.

My father has alwayshateddogs.

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